


Sword and Scimitar

by TheUsagi1995



Series: With Sword and Scimitar our story is written... [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brainwashed Nicky -Nicolo di Genova, Canon Divergence- The Old Guard, Comfort, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Fever, Fever Dreams, Fighting, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I need to stop tagging, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Kissing, Love, M/M, Men Crying, Mentions of Blood, Mild Language, My First Work in This Fandom, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protective Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Protectiveness, Romance, Scared Joe -Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Seizures, Self-Sacrifice, Sick Character, Sick Nicky, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death, Tenderness, This fandom is hard to Tag ok?, Torture, Vomiting, but not for long, graphic depiction of violence, mentions of broken bones, mentions of needles, these two will be the death of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUsagi1995/pseuds/TheUsagi1995
Summary: Canon Divergence:Where Nicky's words of defiance of Merrick's products lead to a much more horrifying outcome. Nicky is taken and then is brutally tortured before the eyes of the team, who can do nothing but watch. Doctor Kozak, is determined to discover the secret to Nicky's immortality and Merrick is hell bent on proving just what his products can do. Since Nicky's body held no answers, Kozak proceeds with violating the last and most sacred stronghold of all. Nicky's wonderful mind...By the time Nile comes to the rescue, it's very likely that there will be nothing left of Nicky's mind to salvage."They could only watch, as the once proud Italian was now a dead weight laid ever so carelessly in the arms of the doctors with the white coats, a thick needle with a heavy anesthetic protruding from his left thigh. Soon he was out of their line of sight, the screech of the hinges of the heavy doors lost amidst the shrieks, the howls, the blood, the sweat, and the tears of the team. And so it was, that the havoc came to an abrupt end the same way it had began. With a mere snap of Merrick’s fingers."NOW COMPLETE!
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: With Sword and Scimitar our story is written... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889575
Comments: 45
Kudos: 295





	1. “Above else guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! This is my first work in this rapidly growing fandom!  
> God, I haven't been so anxious yet at the same time excited in a very long while.  
> Please put up with any spelling or grammatical errors as English is not my first language and I have no beta reader for this.  
> I hope you will enjoy!
> 
> Please note that there are mentions of torture, of needles, blood, vomiting, psychological manipulation and broken bones. If you are triggered by any of those images, please proceed with caution, or turn back now.

**_ “Sword and Scimitar” _ **

_**Chapter 1: “Above else guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”** _

“You will be surprised by what my products can do.” The words were disturbingly promising, voiced by a tongue which was lethal when it was not kept behind rotten teeth. Joe swallowed around the lump in his throat, his gaze falling on Nicky whose calm demeanor seemed unwavering. “And you will be even more surprised by what they cannot do. They are as frail as their creators, they cannot alter the course of one’s fate no matter how hard their efforts may be.” Andy’s ragged breaths mixed with the ever continuing beeping of the monitors as they were, covered the low, cruel chuckle which fell from Merrick’s lips. Yet the look in his eyes as they raked over Nicky’s beaten frame caused Joe’s heart to sink. “We seem to stand on opposite sides. But as I often say to my investors, a trail shall convince you.” Joe’s hands shook against the bonds. “You bastard, don’t you dare!” Gazes laden with pain and puzzlement befall Joe’s shoulders as both Andy and Booker turned to him. Nicky however, remained eerily still, with his stormy orbs fixed on his captor.

* * *

“If one is meant to witness their ruthless results, then let it be me. No one else.” Nicky’s voice was one only Joe had heard before, a long, long time ago. The meek yet stern call of a Crusader whose hand was as accustomed to holding a blade as his heart was to nourishing the virtues of kindness, and forgiveness. It was the call of a man who in spite it all, had never severed his ties to faith. The call of a priest who was determent to protect all the people, even the inhabitants of Jerusalem, who were so ruthlessly slaughtered after the last defenses of the city had crumbled.

* * *

Yes, that was who Nicolo truly was, the man Joe had loved for eons. The man who would stand by those whose need was dire, even if that meant betraying a cause he initially believed to be righteous. Silence leaped between them then, a deafening, ominous silence. Like the curtain falling one last time before the final act of a play, Joe watched helplessly as Merrick raised his hand slowly, almost tenderly, as though his limp was new to him. With a snap of his fingers, the silence was no more.

* * *

  
  
For how could silence exist when two dozen of doctors stormed inside the lab, their white robs trailing behind them, absorbing every ounce of color from the already sterile room? How could silence be harbored, when said doctors threw themselves over Nicky’s body like carnivorous predators launching their claws on their defenseless prey, violently disconnecting numerous tubes and wires? How could there ever exist silence, when the unsettling screech of shackles as they were dragged on fine marble could nearly pierce one’s ears? How could one keep silent upon witnessing said shackles enclosing well shaped ankles, fine wrists and an even finer neck of almost unparalleled beauty? Oh, but there could never be silence amidst a battlefield.

* * *

  
No. There was no room left for silence to dwell. Only for hoarse cries, as Booker spat empty threats against Merrick. Only for heart-wrenching curses in every language known to Man as Andy struggled to set herself free of her bonds, paying no mind to her open wound. Only for inhuman howls, as Joe shattered the bones of his wrists in a disparate, yet futile attempt to free his hands and reach Nicky. Thick tendrils of blood whipped the faces of the security guards whose hands were pinning Joe on the bed and the repulsing sight of white, fractured bones underneath raw muscles, caused the men to avert their gaze.

* * *

_“Nicolo! Nicolo qatalahum ya ruwhi!”_ The words left Joe’s lips, stealing every last molecule of oxygen in their wake, wrenching his vocal cords. The plea trailed behind its recipient and Andy, who was aware of the words’ meaning began struggling anew. ‘Fight them, my soul…’ Joe begged for Nicky to resist yet neither he, nor yet anyone else, could win this battle. There was nothing Andy or any of them could do.

* * *

They could only watch, as the once proud Italian was now a dead weight laid ever so carelessly in the arms of the doctors with the white coats, a thick needle with a heavy anesthetic protruding from his left thigh. Soon he was out of their line of sight, the screech of the hinges of the heavy doors lost amidst the shrieks, the howls, the blood, the sweat, and the tears of the team. And so it was, that the havoc came to an abrupt end the same way it had began. With a mere snap of Merrick’s fingers.

* * *

Silence once again crept into the room, as Joe’s breathing ceased, allowing his withering body, which was now drained of all its blood, to go still. A small part of Andy knew that Joe would relish the finality of death if fate would have it that he would never see Nicky again. Seconds blend into minutes, expanding endlessly, wrapping themselves around Andy’s mind. Only when Joe finally gasped for breath as new life nestled deep in his core, did Andy dare to avert her gaze from her friend. Joe chocked a sob as his tattered body knitted itself back together. “Nicolo, Nicolo…” The man exhaled, the words a mere broken lament. “As much as I enjoy our little gathering, I must admit I do not look kindly upon those who fail to see the good my products can do. That is why I take it upon myself to change their views on the subject.” Merrick’s lopsided smile elicited a new series of curses from Booker and Andy, yet the man cut them off, focusing on Joe and the distorted look on his face.

* * *

  
“I do however, have a soft spot for family meetings, which is why your dear friend has not gone that far from you. In fact,” Merrick paused, pacing toward Joe, “He is right there.” Three pairs of eyes followed Merrick’s index finger, widening as the wall across the room proved to be but a rolling board, which was pushed aside to reveal another laboratory with walls of glass. Joe growled at the sight of Nicky strapped on a vertically placed operating table. His arms were stretched to his sides, yet his legs were bound together at the ankles. The iron shackle around his neck was gone as well, the fair skin already healing. His hair was nowhere near his forehead, for a circular metallic machine was strapped on to his head. One could think it resembled a helmet, were he to lay eyes on it. Yet, the nearly innumerable multicolored wires which were attached to it, were suggesting a far more sinister use.

* * *

“I like him.” Merrick nearly sang the words, pointing his thumb toward the side where Nicky was bound. His eyes however, remained solemnly on Joe. “He speaks with his eyes. The way these stormy orbs would soften whenever they would land on you,” Joe snarled, struggling as Merrick came closer still. “It was truly an exceptional sight. So let us see what will happen when he won’t be able to use them anymore.” With yet another wave of Merrick’s hand, a guard dressed appeared behind Nicky, blindfolding him with what seemed like a broad belt. The man in question stilled, breathing even, muttering something inaudible to the rest of the group. “That I will, my love. Now, and forever. ” Andy once again tilted her head toward Joe, the crease on her forehead easing as she understood that the man had read his partner’s lips.

* * *

“Impressive, what the mind can do, is it not?” Merrick inquired, eyeing Joe. “You just read his lips. I wonder when did you acquire this particular skill.” A series of ragged breaths coming from Joe cut Merrick off, yet the man eventually replied. “I don’t remember when exactly.” His tone seemed one of resignation but Andy could trace the promise of death lingering underneath. _“Above else guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”_ Merrick uttered, smirking at the look on Joe’s face. “Well, I never believed that a man who murdered all of my guards during your transport would quote the book of Proverbs, yet here we are.” Booker rolled his eyes, biting his lip. “What,” Merrick smirked, “You think I am not familiar with the scriptures?” Joe exhaled biting down a curse.

* * *

In the room opposite of theirs, the doctors had once again plunged Nicky on to every machine known to man. They were monitoring his blood pressure, his pulse, the levels of oxygen in his blood and so many other things that Booker had to blink away the blur from his eyes. “Do you know what that machine over there is capable of?” Merrick probed, pointing at the device which was placed on Nicky’s head and was now strapped under his chin. The group remained silent, their indifference eliciting a lament from Merrick.

* * *

“Oh well, I would like to explain it to you, but I believe you will see for yourself in a matter of minutes. You will see, Andromache, just what my products are capable of!” Andy sucked in a lungful of air and spoke, “Fuck you and all your products.” Merrick smirked, waving for one of the doctors to come close. The soft whispers went unheard by the group, but they all soon witnessed what he had been instructed to do. The man moved to the room where Nicky was bound, gagging him with movements so rough, even Booker flinched at the sight. The hard stripes cut to his lips, then broke the sensitive skin around them. A pool of blood and saliva began to form at the side of the table, and Joe’s heart sank. “You asshole, I will-” Joe’s protests were cut short however, as Merrick’s call overshadowed his. “Gag this one as well. I do want him to see it all and I have come to know that one can bite his tongue hard enough to die.” The order was carried out immediately and Andy knew that Joe was content with sharing the same pain as Nicolo.

* * *

Merrick steeled his posture, fixing his eyes on Nicky. “Begin.”

* * *

_**End of Chapter 1** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ends the First chapter.So I would love to hear your thoughts! Was it too bad?! Ugh...Also, please do forgive any mistakes made on the Italian and Arabic phrases.  
> My grandparents lived in Egypt and spoke the language, but I never learned to write or speak. I only know a couple of phrases. So Google translate was my guide.  
> Until next time,  
> Love you all,  
> Usagi!!


	2. "I only wish I am still human enough to do the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grapic description of Torture. Be warned.  
> Chapter two is here! Thank you for your support and I hope you will enjoy it!!  
> Also: None of the medical references in this chapter is accurate as I am no doctor. Please do not use morphine or any other drug without a doctor's supervision.

_**Chapter 2: "I only wish I am still human enough to do the same.”** _

* * *

Merrick steeled his posture, fixing his eyes on Nicky. “Begin.”

The order could not be ignored and as Andy noted, was eagerly followed. Across the room, behind the thick glassy walls, doctor Kozak was clad in white. She filled a syringe with a thick purple liquid, tilting Nicky’s head upwards, exposing his neck. The woman paused momentarily, sparing a glance on to the group and then pushed the needle forward into the fine flesh. The Italian arched upwards as much as his restrains would allow, but the only indication that whatever he was injected with was causing him distress was the number of his heartbeats, which soon skyrocketed. The doctor who was hovering behind the operating table came closer, removing the gag as roughly as he had placed it.

* * *

“State your name.” Demanded Kozak, her words muffled by the thick glassy walls. “Which one? I have had many names through the years.” Nicky almost chuckled and Joe’s heart soared. Kozak pierced him with her eyes injecting him again. “State your name.” She repeated. “Nicky…” The word was uttered amidst ragged breaths. “Nicky Smith.” The man eventually stated, attempting to tilt his head toward the direction of the woman’s voice. Across the room, Joe held his breath. Nicky’s lips trembled. Kozak looked at the computer next to the table and then waved in refusal. Merrick’s eyes narrowed. “Increase the dosage.” Was all he spat and the team was treated to the image of a needle piercing tender flesh twice after that order. Every time, Kozak would pause and ask Nicky to state his name. The man seemed to be struggling more with every passing second, yet he remained adamant on these two words.

* * *

“So much breath wasted on what your products can actually do.” Booker mocked after the fifth failed attempt of the doctor. Before Merrick could speak, no doubt to indicate that perhaps Booker should join Nicky across the room, he was interrupted by Joe’s nearly animalistic growl. Booker’s frame shook his resolve shattering. Across from him, Nicky’s body began convulsing. Andy spared a fleeting gaze on to Joe, who did nothing to hold back his tears. “What are you doing to him?” The woman spat in a venomous tone. Low growls and inhuman grunts reached her ears but to his credit, Nicky bit his lip to keep from screaming. His valiance however, remarkable as it may have been, was not infinite.

* * *

The next time the serum entered Nicky’s bloodstream the thick glassy walls vibrated as his back arched on that table. A raw cry of pain was unleashed galloping up Nicky’s throat unhindered, finding its way to the world as all traces of resistance were fading. Merrick paid no mind to the haunting sound, his eyes fixed on Kozak’s ministrations. “The serum has side effects and many unknown factors. The pain will cause his heart to stop and if he dies, we know not of what may come next. He may wake up completely healed and in that case we would have to start all over again.” Merrick’s shoulders moved dismissively. “Well, in his case, time is not of the essence. He can stay there as long as he needs to.” Andy cursed under her breath, yet her eyes narrowed, fine eyebrows knitting together as Kozak spoke again.

* * *

“It is even possible that he will not come back to life. The serum is causing his blood to clot. I have made the assumption that there must be something in his blood that grants him his unusual ability.” Merrick growled at her. “Then make sure he will not die!” The madman spat, causing Kozak to backtrack and grab another syringe. This time, after the injection Nicky’s body did not shudder. It went limp and Joe’s thrust instead, droplets of blood and tears staining Andy’s already moist cheeks.

* * *

The procedure continued with Kozak injecting Nicky with her purple serum, asking his name whilst the man screamed and howled. Then, she would inject him with the second syringe, which as far as Booker could tell, contained morphine. His declaration was made through gritted teeth and by the looks of it, Joe couldn’t care less. “State your name.” Kozak repeated for the tenth time, talking over Nicky’s deep growls. The team fell silent, as Nicky licked his lips, not flinching at the taste of blood on his chin. “Nicky…” The man paused, shaking his head. “No. My name is Nicolo. Nicolo di Genoa.” Merrick’s triumphant hiss tore Andy’s heart.

* * *

  
  
“When were you born?” Kozak probed, keeping up with the interchangeable injections. “I was born in… 1069.” Joe’s eyes were drowning in his own tears. “What did you do back then?” The woman asked, easing Nicky’s pain with yet another shot of morphine. “I am here to make the pain stop, see? All you have to do is answer to my questions and it will all be well.” Booker hit his head against the bed, cursing in three different languages. “Nicky!” He roared, paying no mind to the popping veins on his neck. “I was a priest, I worshiped God, I believed,” Nicky trailed off, voice laden with an almost unbearable amount of sadness. “I still believe; I still want to do the right thing. Having an endless lifespan offers you that chance. To become a better person. To change harmful opinions, to make amends.” Kozak nodded.

* * *

Merrick spared a glance over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow at Joe. “A priest? For a man who has pledged his life to the Lord, he surely stains his hands with blood and taints his thoughts with lust and desire for pleasures of the flesh.” Joe pierced the man with his eyes, but, for yet another time, it was Booker who vocalized his thoughts. “Nicky is a better man than you will ever be. As for his blood stained hands, well, he didn’t have much of a choice. People have always succumbed to their inner untamed beast, engaging in warfare, for such is their nature.” For a split second, Joe allowed his mind to remember that Booker was his best friend, his brother in arms, a man who could almost read his every expression. He wondered what was more excruciating. The fact that his brother’s actions had led the entire team to the lion’s mouth, or the fact that in spite it all, he would dwell more in the pain of his friend’s loss than in the pain of his betrayal. Nicky’s next scream however, diminished all traces of understanding.

* * *

“Nicky always tried to shield the innocent, fight in their stead.” Andy huffed, cutting Booker off. “Enough. We are not going to explain ourselves to a madman who finds satisfaction in sadistically torturing people!” The words were sharper than a blade’s edge. Across the room, Kozak had paused her ministrations to listen to what was being said, but as soon as Andy fell silent, the doctor turned back to Nicky.

* * *

The woman spoke again, her words treacherous, her hands unrelenting. “It is true, humans have so little time at their disposal. Isn’t that a pity?” Nicky opened his mouth, yet no words left his abused vocal cords, only a desperate moan as purple liquid entered his system anew, causing his blood to burn and clot. Thick crimson tendrils trailed down Nicky’s nostrils, yet the man seemed so lost that he didn’t even acknowledge the metallic taste as it slipped in between his lips.

* * *

  
  
When he eventually spoke, his voice was almost unrecognizable. There was not an ounce of lying in his words and the team realized he could no longer conjure them. “Pity? No. It’s valiant to know of your fate and still live every day, making plans for the future. It’s the magnanimity of the human soul to be capable of showing compassion and making amends in so little time. It’s a tragic fate, to be doomed to die from the day you are born. And yet, Men do not spend every waking moment thinking about the inevitable end, they rise above and beyond and when their time comes, despite their fret, they greet Death as equals for they know they have spent a life defying him.” Booker lowered his head, Nicky’s words crushing onto his shoulders, threatening to shatter the bones underneath. “I only wish I am still human enough to do the same.” Joe wished he could either hold Nicky or die trying. He couldn’t do the former, so he opted for the latter with no results.

* * *

“Still, you are immortal. Your gift, it could help people. That’s why God entrusted it to you, don’t you think, Nicolo?” The man in question flinched at the echo of his full name, a flash of awareness cutting through the dark veil which was coating his features. Kozak paused, eyeing Merrick through the glass. “I have been helping people.” The man uttered, voice wavering, his face morphing as the last traces of defiance slipped away from his beaten body. Kozak’s hands roamed all over it, her callused fingers trailing down the plains of his chest like foreign soldiers treading across the enemy’s territory. Joe chocked, swallowing down his own bile.

* * *

“Keep going! Keep going until all his defenses are gone, until he tells us about everything he has seen, everyone he has met. Until he tells us the truth about his immortality!”Joe once again fought against the bonds as Booker vocalized his burning thoughts. “He doesn’t know, none of us does!” His gaze fell on his friend and horror took over his entire being. Nicky’s torn lips were quivering and his were cheeks marked by tears whose existence he was probably unaware of. Underneath the blindfold, his eyeballs worked themselves into a frenzy. His wrenched body kept convulsing and Booker exclaimed hoarsely.

* * *

“What the fuck are you injecting him with, and what is that damned piece of shit on his head?” Merrick blinked at the sharpness of Booker’s words. “You shouldn’t be so hostile,” he trailed off, his forehead creasing as he raked his mind in search of the man’s name, “Oh, yes, Booker. You should be thankful to my products. You wished to know the secret which has rendered you unable to die. I am looking for it. The answer has to be hidden somewhere and since it was not in his blood, or his DNA, there is one last place I haven’t yet explored. His mind.” Booker shook his head in utter disbelief.

* * *

“That ‘damned piece of shit’ as you called it,” parroted Merrick, pointing at the device which was placed on Nicky’s head, “It is capable of controlling certain parts of the brain. Memories we have long forgotten can be resurfaced. Certain commands can be obeyed. You see, the brain is indeed very complicated, yet, easily susceptible to narcotics. And now,” The man paused, waving his hands, eyes shining like never before. “Now, I am convinced I have created a drug which can provide the right amount of stimulation and a machine which can enable the user to be more suggestible.” Andy blinked at the cruelty of it all. “You,” she trailed off, gaze flicking between Joe and Nicky. “You are violating his brain? Brainwashing him?” Merrick opened his mouth to offer a curt reply, yet distant echoes of gunshots cut him off.

* * *

He looked at Andy and then waved at the doctors and guards which were in Nicky’s room. Numerous pairs of eyes fell on Merrick, awaiting for his commands. He spoke in a panicked voice asking them to retreat. “Go and see what all the fuss is about. Go, now!” No sooner had the order been given than the personnel took their leave, occupying their usual posts along the length of the corridor. With the lab now nearly empty, Kovak outstretched her arms, removing the blindfold from Nicky’s face. Joe blinked furiously, determent to lock his eyes with the ones of his lover as soon as that dreadful woman would step aside. Alas, when the moment came to be, Joe wished he had averted his gaze. Nicky’s beautiful, captivating eyes were now vacant, filled with blood and so much pain that one could drown in it.

* * *

“Look at these people across the room.” Said Kozak, softening her tone as she wielded her needle like a sword, piercing Nicky’s skin again and again, injecting him with that concoction which was taming his blood, distorting his mind. Nicky complied to the request easily. In the distance, a series of gunshots filled the air, yet nothing seemed capable of even lessening Kozak’s resolve. “Tell me, what are they to you?” Weary, haunted orbs scanned the members of the team one by one.

* * *

“My family, they are my family. My brother in arms, Sebastien, my older sister, Andromache and…” Nicky chocked, biting his tongue in order to resist the sickening urge to utter Joe’s real name. “I must admit, he has an iron will. Impressive, how his mind can still have moments of clarity.” Merrick exclaimed astonished, eyes darting between the two lovers. The tension in the air was palpable, for the next words Nicky would utter could condemn the entire team. “Tell me, tell me what is he to you? What’s his name?” Kozak demanded with a twisted glow in her eyes as she injected him with her poison again, pushing him beyond his limits. A coughing fit wrenched Nicky’s frame and Kozak’s frantic words had Joe howling. “He’s trying to swallow his own vomit and kill himself!”Alas, her call was overshadowed by a much more urgent one.

* * *

“Sir, you need to get to safety!” Rasped a guard Joe had come face to face with before, but whose name he could not remember. “What is the purpose of this Keane?” Came the cruel retort and Andy’s brow creased as the man leaned forwards, whispering his next words. With a shudder, Merrick darted his eyes on Kozak, who had her back on him so as to make sure Nicky’s heart would not give out on him. “Keep her safe, I have need of her.” He ordered and fled the room, leaving Keane behind to guard the door. The gunshots were now accompanied by gut-wrenching screams and the deafening cries of men as they were meeting their demise. Andy’s eyes lit up at the sight of that young, talented girl who seemed adamant on rescuing the entire team.

* * *

“Nile!” Andy rasped as the familiar figure burst through the door, her gun pointed at Keane, who was obliged to step back. Holding his hands up, Keane allowed Nile to reach Booker’s bed. The straps came off easily and Booker climbed down, reaching out to Andy. “You came back.” The latter observed, her tone causing Nile’s lips to twitch in a ghost of a smile. “Well, we are a team are we not?” She moved toward Andy, yet they all came to an abrupt halt as Kozak’s voice reached their ears.

* * *

“I am the one who can free you from this torture. I am the one who can make the pain go away, or I can double its intensity. Protect me from them, and I promise you no harm will befall any of you.” Before the last word could escape Kozak’s lips she pushed her needle in Nicky’s throat one last time, forcing every drop of her serum in the man’s bloodstream, while with her free hand she undid all his restrains, stepping at the far corner of the room. “What did she do to him?” Nile demanded of Keane, yet an eerie cracking sound caused four pairs of eyes to turn toward Joe who was biting at the gag so hard that it eventually shattered under the pressure, taking four of Joe’s teeth along with it. Before Nile’s stomach could turn at the sight, the man had healed.

* * *

Andy barely had the time to get to Joe before two dozen of guards burst through the door, obliging the team to swing into action. Blood, sweat and tears were soon coating the floors, staining the sterilized lab as Andy, Booker and Nile had drawn the men to the front side of the room. Andy cast a fleeting gaze on Joe, who was now free of his bonds and had taken up both his Scimitar as well as Nicky’s sword. With a single nod, commander and soldier came to an understanding, and Joe began to cross the room with steps steady and quiet. All around havoc was reigning supreme, the cruelty of war in all its magnanimity. But Joe paid no mind to the mayhem. His scimitar deflected the bullets whilst his feet trod, avoiding the dead bodies.

* * *

With movements reminiscent of those his body had made almost a millennia ago, when he found himself crossing the battlefield outside the walls of Jerusalem, charging toward a Crusader mount on a white stallion, Joe reached the far end of the room, seeing Kozak hiding behind the man he adored. Yet, as it would seem, the tide had turned once again, and the eons of love and devotion had pulled themselves apart at the seams, drowning in a purple serum which had achieved what no one in this world ever had. To cause Nicky and Joe to stand on opposite sides once more.

* * *

_**End of Chapter 2** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! It means so much for me! Comments and kudos make my day!~  
> Until next time,  
> Stay safe wherever you are!  
> Love you all  
> Usagi


	3. "Ya’aburnee, Yusuf…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 3! It's a long read. I hope you will enjoy!!  
> Thank you so much for rreading and for all your support!

_**Chapter 3: “Ya’aburnee, Yusuf…”** _

* * *

“Nicky, it’s me.” Joe uttered, nostrils twitching at the stench of sweat mixed with blood and vomit. The man across from him took a moment to regain his balance, all external wounds closing, leaving behind no mark to indicate they had ever been inflicted. Joe however, who had from times long gone created a special place in his mind which was meant to keep a tally of Nicky’s wounds, had already omitted every scar to memory. “Nicky, we have to make haste, my love.” Alas, those stormy eyes he so loved, seemed not to recognize him. Instead, Nicky’s body moved on its own accord, shielding Kozak from Joe’s line of sight. “Nicky!” Joe rasped again as the man attempted to grab his sword, his muscles moving out of sheer habit. “Remember what I told you! Protect me from them!” Kozak whispered again, and this time, Nicky leaped forward, punching his lover on the stomach, obliging him to unclench his fingers from the pommel of his sword, which then clattered on to the cold floor along with Joe.

* * *

“Come on my love, I need you to look at me, really look at me, and see me.” Joe muttered softly, switching to Italian in hopes that Nicky would react to the sound of his first language. He smiled faintly, raising his eyes to meet the ones of his partner. All his breath was wasted. It was futile. Nicky’s fingers grasped the pommel of his sword with a familiarity which could only be gained through eons of contact. The weapon was an extension of his hand, his body merely a vessel for it to attach itself onto. Joe felt his eyes sting as he found himself facing the pointy end of that blade. The almost unbearable weight of all those long years he had lived, piled onto his shoulders and he shuddered underneath the irony of it all. Countless sunrises had tore the night sky in half before drowning themselves in Joe’s eyes, yet now they all seemed bound to an everlasting darkness.

* * *

The darkness of that night when Joe, no; Yusuf, had found his chest pressed against the back of that Crusader whom he had thrown off from his stallion. He held his scimitar in his right hand, the tip pressed against the man’s tunic. _“Hayaatik bayn yady.” (Your life is in my hands.)_ Joe had spat the words in Arabic, his lips finding the Crusader’s ear. With one last exhale, he had pressed his blade forward, relishing the sound of steel piercing the flesh. The man had shuddered against Joe, yet his lips had twitched upwards. _“E la tua vita indugia nelle mie presse.” (As your life lingers in my grasps.)_ With that phrase and one last breath, Nicky, no; Nicolo, had taken a hold of Yusuf’s hands, pushing the blade past his own body, impaling the one of the man who had been standing behind him as well. Together they breathed their last. Together, they breathed anew.

* * *

“Soul of my soul, it’s me. Do you really wish for us to fight?” Joe said as he regained his composure, pushing the memories back at the pits from which they had crawled out. “You have to remember, my love. We no longer steal each other’s breath by the sword but by our kisses.” The words trailed from his lips like a prayer. All the answer he got, however, was the cruel whooshing sound of metal as it sliced through the air. “Joe!” Nile rasped from across the room, as she witnessed Nicky’s movements. Her frantic call was drowned in the screechy echo of two blades clashing with one another, as Joe had now switched the sword-hand, holding his scimitar horizontally, a few inches before his face.

* * *

Kozak crept behind Nicky, eyeing Joe with a mixture of mockery and disbelief. “Your words will not break through. He has been exposed to a large dosage of the toxin far too quickly.” Joe ignored her, yet Nicky shielded her once more. “My sun and stars, come on. I can wait another millennia for you to remember me, us. But right now we don’t have that much time at our disposal.” Joe tried again as he pushed Nicky back, thus gaining enough time to get up on his feet.

* * *

Joe drew his blade closer, standing a few feet across from Nicky, who moved to his left, toward the door of the room with the glassy walls. Joe caught a glimpse of Kozak following his steps. For every step Nicky would take to his left, Joe took one to the right, and thus the two lovers were circling around an invisible axis. “We first laid eyes on one another during the great siege of Jerusalem, my love. Remember?” The man backtracked swiftly as Nicky advanced toward him, their blades clashing once again. “I was on foot whilst you were galloping across the field, bathed in a light so bright I had to squint my eyes.” This time, Nicky was the one who pushed his lover backwards, obliging him to get into the main lab, where the rest of the team was fighting. His eyes were still unseeing, yet Joe traced the quiver of his lips. 

* * *

Joe’s feet did not betray him as his shoes dived into puddles of blood, and he soon rearranged them so that he was closer to his partner. “We fought all day long, as all around us faceless men were falling to their deaths. Yet their howls could not reach us,” Nicky’s sharp, calculated movements drove his sword to his right, the blade breaking the skin of Joe’s cheek, “Their pleas and roars could not touch us.” Joe continued his narration as he simply backtracked, stepping away from that lethal blade. “We could only dwell on the echo of our own breath, on the hammering beats of our hearts and on the mixture of words we spat to one another, half of them in Arabic, half of them in an old dialect of Genoa.” Nicky’s iron hold on the pommel loosened momentarily, and Joe found another chance to take a step closer.

* * *

Around the two men, the members of the team had formed a vast circle, fighting back to back, keeping Merrick’s guards away from them. Soon, Nicky and Joe were standing in the middle of the lab, two souls orbiting around one another whilst a ring of warriors was rotating around them. A third, far wider ring of guards had formed, countering the Immortals. “See how we dwell in the centre of the world?” Joe panted for breath as he continued wielding his scimitar defensively, refusing to launch an actual attack. “Just as we did back then, a millennia ago.” Nicky huffed dismissively, keeping his steps measured whilst his body longed to touch the one of his adversary. The man had to physically restrain himself and Joe’s eyes shone upon witnessing the twitch of Nicky’s fingers.

* * *

The Italian growled, biting down his lip, trying to contain the wildfire which was engulfing his insides at the sight of Joe. “Attack him!” Kozak demanded, her order eliciting a mouthful of curses from the man across from her. “Someone kill that bitch!” Nicky’s furious negative response caused Andy’s eyes to narrow. “Nicky, she’s lying to you, she won’t hurt you again, we won’t let her.” Kozak’s lips twitched upwards. “Oh but I only wish to make it all go away. I wish to alleviate every ounce of pain, which is now nestling so deep in his core. Kill me and he will be condemned to suffer endlessly.” The woman uttered, making sure to get close enough to Nicky that her breath met the back of his neck.

* * *

“Kill him.” It was the hiss of a snake. In less than a blink of an eye, Nicky drove his blade toward Joe’s throat, attempting to obey Kozak’s words. Joe cursed loudly as he had to deliver a painful gash on Nicky’s forearm with his scimitar to hinder the strike. “Nicky, get your wits together man!” Booker’s voice rang through the room, followed by Nile’s sympathetic call. “Why isn’t he healing? His mind should have been restored by now, right?” She questioned, eyes never leaving her adversaries. “It must be the morphine. It’s blocking the procedure.” Booker rasped, gasping for breath as he handed Nile a loaded gun, accepting hers in return. They worked together in sync, moving like the fingers on a clock.

* * *

  
“Or maybe that shitty purple liquid is too powerful. Perhaps, in order for his brain to clear it needs to be shut down first.” Joe’s scimitar screeched as it met Nicky’s sword. “If you lay as much as your little finger on him, I swear I will find a way to smash your hands once and for all!” Booker cursed as he, Nile and Andy had to step closer to one another, always maintaining their circular formation, keeping Merrick’s men at arm’s length from Joe and Nicky. Nile bit her lip as Andy’s command overshadowed Joe’s threats. “Nicky, look at who you’re fighting!” The Scythian rasped urgently when she found herself in close proximity to her dear friend. “Andy, look out!” Alas, Nile’s exclaim came a fraction of a second after a guard had fired his gun, the bullet already flying toward Andy.

* * *

“No!” Joe and Booker howled in unison, their mutual bitterness now forgotten. They both leaped toward the woman despite knowing through years of experience that they would not make it in time. Andy locked her gaze with the bullet, facing death head on until familiar fingers wrapped themselves around her left shoulder, spinning her around before pulling her behind a broad back. Andy stumbled yet she did not fall, raising her head to find herself face to face with Joe, whose mouth was agape. The screech of flying bullets as they were deflected by the long blade was bone chilling, yet as Andy darted her eyes between Nicky’s back, which had acted as her shield and Joe’s widened eyes, a smile lightened up her face. For a mere instant, she stood proudly at the center of their world, amongst them, feeling safer than ever before.

* * *

Said smile faded as fast as it had appeared however, for the moment when there were no more bullets coming toward Andy for that long-sword to deflect, Nicky turned around, and Joe’s lips moved as Nicky’s muscles twitched. “Duck, boss!” Before the urgent call could fade, Nicky was raising his hands, wielding his sword to his right. Joe cursed as he stepped forward, his scimitar clashing against Nicky’s blade once again a few inches above Andy’s hunched frame. “Damn it Joe, wake him up!” She commanded fiercely, getting back to her previous position in three long strides.

* * *

Nicky had his eyes fixed on Joe once again and the man knew he had to break through to his lover. Time was not on their side, not in this case. Vaguely, he wondered if it had ever been. “We fought all day long, my heart. The sun was moving to the west and men were falling and horses were kneeling down, stumbling onto the piling bodies, their proud eyes filled with sadness at the sight of Men’s true nature. Yet, you were still mounting your stallion, ever so skilful with the reigns, ever so accurate with your sword. But I had also managed to remain standing, and by the time dusk had fallen, we were the only ones left.” Nicky blinked, eyes clearing just a fraction. Joe’s heart fluttered.

* * *

“We were in the middle of it all, bodies spewrd all round us, yet we were drawn to one another, gravitating toward each other, driven by scattered fragments of dreams. The plains of the city were ours to claim, two souls in the centre of the world.” Joe accounted, as they crossed swords again, now standing mere inches from one another. “Do not listen to him!” Kozak rasped, desperately trying to reach the door. Her call fell on deaf ears however, as Nicky’s lips parted in silent anticipation. The hold around his blade wavered. “That’s it, that’s it my heart, come back to me.” The plea was soft and Nile who managed to hear it amidst the shouting, felt her eyes water.

* * *

“Then I threw you down from the stallion, and managed to immobilize your hands, pressing your back against my chest.” Joe paused, licking his lips. The havoc had now subsided as the team had slain almost all the guards. When he spoke again, Joe’s voice was wavering, the words carrying with them a part of his very soul. “I still remember the feeling of that first touch which had caused strange flames to devour my insides. The man from my dreams was in my arms, shaking with adrenaline, beautiful beyond reason, fighting in the name of a different God than the One I worshiped. Having wrecked havoc upon a city whose inhabitants had kept me fed and clothed, by purchasing my sketches. Having drowned familiar alleys in blood and tears, whilst screams and howls, took the place of soft whispers and of happy chatter.” Nicky backtracked frantically, swallowing hard.

* * *

“I held you caged between my body and my scimitar, withering from exhaustion. I could feel every fiber of my being vibrating. I hated you so deeply, I despised you, I detested you. The feeling was mutual. I could see it in your eyes, the same desire was burning inside you. You wished to see me fall by your own hand. And your wish would come true.” Joe paused, face darkening under the weight of a memory he could not bring himself to voice. When he did, the words were vacant. “You ignored the seething pain, took a hold of my hands and pushed my scimitar all the way in and out of your body and into my very own. That was how we died for the first time.” Nile got the chance to move closer to Andy casting a fleeing gaze on her. It was because of that close proximity that the young girl was able to hear the choked sob coming from the Scythian when Nicky waved his head in refusal without his mind processing the movement.

* * *

“In your eyes I was but a demon, a test for you to solidify your faith to God. How else would I be able to invade your dreams, tempting your thoughts? How else would I be able to find my way back to the world of the living?” Joe let out a humorless laugh. “Later, years later, you told me that for decades you wanted to believe that it was faith which had led you to abandon priesthood and gallop all the way to the walls of Jerusalem. As it would seem it was not faith but Fate, whose power no Man can challenge. We were dreaming of one another until we met on that hellish battlefield, long-sword meeting scimitar time and time again. Back then, nothing could tame our rage.” Andy eyed Booker who opted to avert his gaze.

* * *

  
“Not even Death could decide on a victor, so he refused us both when we took each other’s life, turning his back on us, abandoning us to find our way back to life, back to that battlefield. Back to one another. Yet, our hatred, fuelled by unjust perceptions, caused us to knock on Death’s door many a times.” Joe accounted as Nile let her eyes to dart between the two men, allowing her imagination to take flight as Joe’s words transported her in a different era.

* * *

“Every time, Death would turn His back on us.” The bitterness in Joe’s voice filled the room. “The stench of rotten flesh and of dried blood would smother our senses, yet it was unable to stop us. We were looking for answers, questioning our Gods and each other. But as the hour grew late and the night sky covered all the horrors the day had seen, I fell to my knees, beaten. Broken. Betrayed. You were a few feet away, long-sword in hand. You raised it, ready to strike me down for what could have been the twentieth time. Our eyes met then as I felt the cold steel touching the side of my neck.” Joe took in a shaky breath, casting a fleeting gaze on Booker as if he wished to let him know that the next words he would utter were meant for him.

* * *

“I braced myself for the possibility of yet another demise by your hand, but the strike never came.” Nicky’s breath got caught in his throat. “Your hand trembled, your eyes watered, drowning in despair. You lowered the blade, raising your head upwards. When you finally dropped the sword, there was a splash as it plunged into a mire of blood. Then, you preyed. Was it for mercy, guidance, or death, I still can’t tell. All I know, is that to this day, I have never heard such a lament before. That night, we experienced the true magnanimity of loneliness. Alone, we were living dead. Unable to perish, yet too afraid to live. For what was the meaning of our existence if we would never see it end? What was the meaning of hate if your adversary would not fall? What was the meaning of belief, if at times where the need was dire, there was no divine intervention? What was the meaning of love, if all we once held dear was doomed to wither and die, whereas we could not?” Andy’s wavering exhale obliged Joe to pause so as to do the same.

* * *

“That night, Nicolo, that night, you wept whilst preying. Bound to your grief, you wept for the comrades whom you had lost, for your faith, which was wavering, for your fate, which you could not even begin to understand. You wept and your tears were falling on the feet of a man who hated you.” Nile felt sadness weighing her down. Joe licked his lips. “I hated you. Or so I thought. In truth, now I know that I longed for you with a visceral way. That longing slowly but surely, caused all my inner defenses to fall to ruin as time went by and as circumstance obliged us to stick together, obliged us to fight back to back. Yes,” Joe underlined the last affirmative word as Nicky’s eyes widened, “we fought back to back the following day, putting our enmity on hold in favor of saving the lives of the women and children whose fate were to die as the city fell.” Nicky was now openly crying, yet he couldn’t dare to blink the tears away.

* * *

“Why?” The word was barely audible as Nicky fought against his dry lips to utter it. Joe’s resolve wavered. “Why? Why what?” Nicky attempted to offer an answer but no sound would escape his lips. Joe understood his lover couldn’t really bring himself to speak. “Why did you weep before my eyes? Why did you spare my life? Why did you trust me enough to turn your eyes elsewhere?” Joe wasn’t really asking, he was answering. “Because there was no hope that night, no meaning in either sparing or taking my life. Because there was no other way for us to act, but defend those in need. Because that was the right choice. The only choice which we could still make. Because, Nicolo, you had recognized me for what I really was. A desperate soul, a lone soul. You had recognized me, my love. Just like you do now.” Nicky dared not to draw breath, fearing that even the slightest disturbance would shatter everything.

* * *

“Joe.” Nicky rolled the name in his mouth, his tongue ever so accustomed to it. His featured eased a fraction and he somewhat lowered his sword. With the corner of his eye, Joe caught a glimpse of Kozak fleeing the room. Yet his snarl was cut short as Andy’s voice rang, steady and ever commanding. “Nicky! Get your shit together! Merrick is getting away and we have need of you!” With that, Andy nodded for Nile and Booker to follow her down the corridor, in search of Merrick.

* * *

It was only then that Nicky allowed his weary gaze to wander around the room. All the guards were dead, and Keane along with Kozak were nowhere to be found. “Nicky, that’s an order!” Came Andy’s ever fading call, which caused the man’s lips to move in their own accord. “Yes boss.” Was all the man uttered, astonished by his own words. Joe also lowered his scimitar, extending his hand to his lover’s tear-marked cheek. Nicky’s eyes brightened, his lips trembling as awareness shot through his core.

* * *

“Joe, I—” The man cut himself off, bloody eyes darting between his blade and Joe’s scimitar, widening in shock. “No, no, no, Joe, I didn’t, tell me I didn’t do this, no—” A shaky hand cupped that pale face and Joe stepped closer. “Are you with me?” They were so close now, gravitating toward one another, mortal enemies turned into lovers whose devotion seemed unwavering as time passed, staining, stealing and breaking everything except their bond. “Always.” Nicky uttered brokenly, the word drenched in guilt.

* * *

Nicky parted his lips, yet instead of an apology, a panicked exclaim escaped them. “Stay away!” He rasped all of a sudden, half phrase uttered in Italian, half in English, eyes moving past Joe. “Kill him!” Kozak’s call echoed in the now mostly empty room, strong and unwavering, and Joe barely had the time to catch a glimpse of Keane marching toward them. In two long strides he was standing a few feet away from Nicky, a syringe filled with that dreadful purple poison nestling in his grasp. Nicky’s eyes rolled back in his head, his breath getting caught in his throat as the liquid caused his blood to clot. His hands stretched forward and then drew away on their own, and not a moment later, a sharp pain nestled in his abdomen. Darkness devoured everything as Nicky felt his knees colliding with the cold floor. A scream tore the silence, but neither of the two lovers could determine its orientation. The clatter of a sword as it crashed onto the floor followed. Their combined echo was so terrifying that it broke through the haze which was clouding Nicky’s senses, rousing him from his limbo.

* * *

The heavy odor of blood smothered Joe’s senses as he obliged his eyes to open. His mind registered that he was on his knees, a wound on his right shoulder. Yet, said ache was soon replaced by a pain Joe had sworn he would never feel again. Nicky was also furled in half, his blade dyed with blood, lying beside him. A circular crimson stain was forming at the center of his stomach as a different kind of blade seemed to have sliced the flesh. Joe’s heart stumbled upon itself as his dilated orbs trailed along the length of the shining metal. The howl he unleashed upon realizing what had taken place echoed throughout the building, reaching Andy, Nile and Booker, who were facing Merrick.

* * *

As it would seem, Kozak’s voice along with the injection, had wrenched havoc on Nicky’s gullible mind, leading him to strike Joe’s shoulder with his sword, only to withdraw it instinctively. Alas, amidst the haze, Joe’s hand which still clung on to his scimitar, flew forward like a rifle, piercing Nicky’s abdomen in its wake. “Nicky, my love,” Joe stuttered, nestling ever so close to his lover, cradling his face in his palm before gazing down at the long gush. “I need to pull back the blade, Nicolo, I’m so sorry.” Joe’s remorseful words were so pained that Nicky couldn’t stand it.

* * *

_“Ti prego, perdonami, Joe…” (I beg of you, forgive me, Joe.)_ The name washed away the sour taste in Nicky’s mouth, and for the first time after Merrick had taken the Italian away, the two lovers found solace in one another. “Shh, quiet, it’s alright, you are here with me now Nicolo.” At the sound of his name, Nicky lifted his gaze which was now clouded due to extensive blood loss. A faint smile pulled the man’s lips as he felt Joe’s breath on his face. “Your hair… Is nicely tasseled.” Joe attempted to offer a laugh that sounded more like a broken sob as Nicky’s body shivered in his hold.

* * *

“Nicolo, look at me, you can’t die. You can’t die, you hear me?” Nicky’s brow creased at the frantic pleas, but soon, distant whispers filled his thoughts. _“The serum has side effects and many unknown factors. The pain will cause his heart to stop and if he dies, we know not of what may come next._ He may wake up completely healed and in that case, we would have to start all over again. _It is also possible that he will not come back to life.”_ A lament worked its way up Joe’s throat. Nicky’s trembling hands caressed the man’s face. “Joe, you have to let me go. If it’s time,” he paused, inhaling tiredly. “If it’s time, then I want to be with you. I want your hand on mine.” Joe shook his head.

* * *

“It’s not your time, because I don’t feel like dying with this hair.” Nicky felt tears wetting his fingers as Joe’s frail attempt at humor faded into nothing. “Now shut up and let me help you. I know it hurts, but once the blade is out, the wound will close. We know it will.” Who was Joe trying to convince, neither lover could tell for sure. “Joe, the drug has made me into something I am not. I can’t be like this, I can’t turn back to what I once was, I don’t want to, Joe, please, please…” Perhaps much later, were he meant to live to tell the tale, Nicky would attribute his fret to the side effects of Kozak’s concoction. But now, such a claim would be ridiculous. A small part of his soul stirred, Nicky realized, as he withered helplessly. He was terrified of death despite making peace with its inevitability, and that made him truly and indisputably human. “Joe, I,” Before he could speak, however, he felt Joe freezing on to the spot and sensed Keane placing himself behind his shivering frame once again.

* * *

“It’s useless to try and make him remember, his mind is all messed up. Our serum, combined with morphine has shattered him! We are just going to keep him here. After all, we only need one of you.” The man snarled and Nicky heard the cruel, ominous click of a safety of a gun as it was lifted. He didn’t have to see the man pointing the gun at Joe, he could feel the dread wrapping itself around his bones. So ferocious was its impact that Nicky’s mind cleared. He didn’t have to remember anything, for some things were nestling far beyond the fields of memory. And Joe, No; Yusuf, Nicky allowed the name to fill his thoughts, Yusuf was the one thing that could never be erased.

* * *

Their first battle, their first death and then their first breath, acts done in sync. Yes, Nicky remembered, that night when he still was Nicolo, he remembered Yusuf being pressed against his back, piercing Nicky’s chest with this very scimitar. And then, Nicky had pushed the blade further inside, impaling Yusuf as well. He had done this before for the sake of taking Yusuf’s life. He had sworn that, should he ever repeat the act, it would be to save him.

* * *

Now that he had found himself at that point where his path had locked around his feet… Now that he had turned against his teammates. Now that he had forsaken, even for a little while his love for Joe, for the man who had changed him for the better. Now that he had dared to take arms and fight against him… Now he had reached the end and oh, how reminiscent was it of the very beginning. Now he knew, beyond a shadow of doubt that the time had come to uphold his vow.

* * *

Nicky’s right hand took a hold of Joe’s free one in less than a blink of an eye, while with his left he grabbed the blade, its edge so familiar, pushing it all the way in, and out of his back, and then impaling Keane with it. The distant echo of the gun as it crushed on to the floor eased Nicky’s fear. His lover was safe. “ _Ya’aburnee…”_ Nicolo uttered, feeling Keane falling backwards all the while he was pulled forward by Joe’s strong hands. He couldn’t register the Scimitar leaving his beaten body and the last sight his eyes were treated to, was Joe’s teary face hovering over his. Warm brown of the earth gave breath to the stormy hazel oceans, which were dwelling in Nicky’s orbs and the man tasted their salt on his lips as one last breath escaped them, carrying with it one single, sacred word.

_“…Yusuf.”_

* * *

_End of Chapter 3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Ya’aburnee means “bury me” I remember my grandmother saying this to my grandfather every night. It signifies the wish that you should die before your loved one, because you cannot fathom living in a world without them.  
> 2\. I know that Nicky and Joe killed each other many, many times, and that their first kill was nowhere near as ‘romantic’ as the one I mention in this story. Still, I really liked the idea, so here we are. This is fanfiction after all.  
> 3\. I also think that there is no way they would put their enmity on hold after one night of fighting and brutal killing, but things had to move forward with the plot. Furthermore, I do believe that they would fight back to back to save innocent women and children only to turn their blades against each other after the deed was done.  
> 4\. I loved Booker’s character, and I understand where his actions come from, but I also think that despite the fact that Nicky and Joe had found one another, that doesn’t mean that they were not confused or scared. They were two completely different men, coming from different backgrounds. So, for many years they would be lost and utterly alone.
> 
> 5\. I know that Joe would not die even if Keane were to shoot him, but as I watched the movie for the second time, I realized Nicky pulled Keane away from Joe and toward his own body twice so as to protect his partner, despite knowing they couldn’t really die.  
> 6\. It is never my intension to offend any reader. I tried to not touch upon religious matters and focused on the emotional impact the notion of immortality can have on all people, regardless of their religious beliefs. Please do not take offense, and if there is something you think feels wrong, let me know and I will correct it as best as I can.  
> 7\. Again, I feel the need to highlight the fact that I am no doctor, so all the medical references are completely made up. Please do not use narcotics or even pain killers without a doctor’s supervision.  
> 8.Thank you all for reading! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! If you wish, let me know what you thought of it!The final chapter will be posted sometime next week. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos make me so happy!  
> Until next time,  
> Stay safe wherever you are,  
> Love you all,  
> Usagi!


	4. "I will abide to whatever penance you see fit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!  
> So here is chapter 4! It was supposed to be the last one, but it ended up being too long, so I had to split it in two. Chapter 5 is written and will be posted in a couple of days.  
> Thank you for all your support!  
> I hope you will enjoy!

**_ Chapter 4: “I will abide to whatever penance you see fit.” _ **

When Nicky abandoned the realm of unconsciousness for the first time, he was fairly certain he was in purgatory. He was burning, his blood felt thick as it was pumped through his veins, attempting to melt the muscles and skin. Sour bile galloped upward in his throat, flooding the curves of his mouth, yet he couldn’t muster the strength to eject the acidic substance. He choked, fighting to draw in a breath that never came. All traces of awareness left him, and he willingly surrendered to the all too familiar, yet always ice-cold embrace of the Black Horseman. With what must have been one last sliver of sanity, he wondered how he could die if he were already dwelling in Hell. He was given no answer.

* * *

The second time his senses flared, it wasn’t his blood which was burning him, but his skin instead. He desperately wished to shed every last inch of it, peel it away like a snake, if only to feel the cool touch of water on his raw muscles. Underneath closed eyelids, images of Quynh roaming the depths of yet unnamed oceans greeted him. Her hand, pale and thin reached out, caressing his forehead, his cheeks. He leaned into the touch, allowing himself to be manhandled by his old companion, whose long hair was dancing all around him, creating a thick, impenetrable veil. The horseman was lingering somewhere close, Nicky could tell as much.

* * *

_“Portami con te. Ti scongiuro.” (Take me with you. I beg you.)_ Nicky muttered beseechingly. The woman smiled kindly, her impossibly long hair wrapping around Nicky’s frail limps as she complied to his request, pulling him away from pain, into sunless depths. The Italian surrendered again, not bearing the fever which was tormenting him. He moaned, nodding for Quynh to trap him underwater, uncaring of the price he would have to pay. He would soon come to regret his wish.

* * *

The third time the darkness subsided, Nicky begged for death and mercy in what he thought was a mixture of Italian, Latin and Arabic. His eyes remained shut, yet he felt his body sliding into dreadfully cold water. His ravaged mind rebelled as stabs of pain shot through him, and he opened his mouth to beg Quynh to relent. To his utter dismay, the woman had forsaken him, disappearing just as swiftly as she had come. Nicky’s soul withered along with his body as he wondered if his former companion had returned to her iron coffin, leaving him to be tarnished by the waters she had come to hate. Somewhere deep in the corner of his being, Nicky registered strong, familiar hands roaming on his face, on the sides of his neck, on his chest and back.

* * *

Hands warm and ever so gentle in contradiction to the icy liquid, their touch resembling the one of the brush against the canvas. If Nicky were truly condemned to dwell in purgatory, then these hands were a small part of Heaven. And for Nicky, so small a Heaven had to be enough. He mentally chased the touch, content at the echo of the last beat of his heart, which resembled the name of the man he so adored. If Yusuf heard the call, Nicky could not tell. Soon, the sensation dimmed and the man used his final breaths not to wish for death, but for yet another chance in life.

* * *

When Nicolo finally breathed again, he took a moment to blink away the blurriness and another to wound his mind around the fact that he was, as it seemed, alive once more. He dwelled on the fact for what he thought was a long time, far longer than he initially had planned. Alas, he soon understood he was in no condition to make or follow any kind of plan as images of his actions in Merrick’s labs assaulted him, their intensity excruciating. Nicky swallowed back the bile which rose up in his throat, managing to push the memories aside in favor of cataloguing the numerous peculiar facts about his current situation.

* * *

For one, he was no longer in Merrick’s cold labs. That however, wasn’t a great improvement in of itself. Why wasn’t he there? How long had he not been there? And if he wasn’t in Merrick’s labs, then where was he? More importantly, where was Yusuf?

* * *

Nicky attempted to oblige his eyes to open and his lips to part, yet despite his efforts neither obeyed. Panic clenched around his heart, but the man fought against it, focusing on the rest of his senses. Soft sheets were caressing his body, which as far as he could tell was no longer clad in bloodstained clothes. His chest felt bare, whilst a pair of cotton trousers were enclosing his middle and legs. A warm blanket was keeping the chill at bay and some sort of greatcoat had been furled many a times in order to act as a pillow. There was a washcloth laid on his forehead and he could now register that another one was being softly dragged across the length of his neck.

* * *

A dull ache lingered on his stomach, but it seemed to be fading with every passing second. The soft crackling of fire reached his ears, mixed with the calming sound of dripping water, which, Nicky slowly understood, was the result of the washcloth been drained and replaced on his forehead. Upon inhaling, Nicky realized the air was unusually dry and warm, carrying with it the scent of lemon and eucalyptus. The odor was soothing, pleasant even. Nicky relaxed, thankful that his nostrils were not met with the stench of heavy antiseptic, or blood. He tensed anew however, when he felt the absence of warm breaths on both the back of his neck as well as his forehead. Yusuf was not next to him.

* * *

Nicky’s body shuddered, his hand twitching a couple of times before his fingers felt strong enough to move. When they eventually did, they wrapped themselves around a calloused hand and Nicky felt his lips turning upwards. “Andy,” he uttered flinching at the sound of his own voice. “Nicky, can you hear me?” Came Andy’s reply and after a few failed attempts, Nicky managed to crack his eyes open. The woman was hovering over him, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand hidden in Nicky’s own grasp, another holding the washcloth which she was trailing down his neck. “Andy, where is—” Before any more words could escape Nicky’s lips, a plume of tousled braids got in his line of sight. Nile who as it would seem, had fallen asleep sitting on the floor with her back on the wall, bolted upward.

* * *

“My God, you’re actually alive!” The disbelief was evident in Nile’s tone, yet her smile caused Nicky’s own lips to curl upwards. “Booker! Booker get your ass here!” Andy’s loud command travelled throughout the small bedroom, which Nicky could now recognize as being the guestroom of his and Joe’s safe house, which they had bought almost three hundred years ago and was situated outside of London. “Shit, what, what now?” The series of curses were muttered in French as the man burst through the door, his gun in one hand a book in the other. “Nicky.” Booker blinked, trailing off, finding himself at a loss for words.

* * *

Andy couldn’t resist the urge to comment, “I suppose you thought you are going to smack our enemies in the head with Don Quixote.” Booker spared a glance at his left hand before smiling faintly. Nicky darted his now clear eyes between his teammates, his heart sinking as he beheld their pale, haunted faces. An unparalleled fear engulfed him and he understood that the fret must have taken over his features because before he could vocalize his thoughts all three spoke in unison. “Joe is in the porch.” Nicky’s broken lament of relief was overshadowed by Booker’s chuckle, yet Andy’s hold tightened around her friend’s hand.

* * *

“You are a fast learner Nile.” The Frenchmen noted a hint of pride mixed with sadness woven in his tone. He knew, Andy realized as she scrutinized his face, he knew that soon he would not be a part of the team and thus he would not be able to praise Nile, who offered him a soft smile. The moment of tranquility extended itself as silence coated the room. “What is he doing outside in the middle of the day?” Andy read between the lines, comprehending what Nicky truly wanted to ask. _Why isn’t he here?_ “He will be right back, just give him ten minutes.” Under different circumstances, Nicky’s mind would have rebelled against the thought of not asking further questions, but Andy’s tone was unwavering.

* * *

“Nicky, it’s not the middle of the day anymore.” Nile trailed off, unsure of how to continue. “It’s five thirty in the morning.” Andy took over, her voice steady, yet warm. Nicky’s fine brows arched upwards before knitting together. He tilted his head to his right, looking past Nile and Booker, out the window. The ebony hue of the sky had now begun to temper, as brushes of light were added upon the canvas with each passing second. A new dawn was at hand. How many had come and gone since Nicky had last been conscious however, the man could not tell.

* * *

Nicky propped his body upward, leaning his back on the headboard, giving himself a better visual of his teammates. As his eyes darted all around the small space, he traced thin tendrils of smoke coming from the far corner of the room. Following their trail downward, he saw the frail yet still going fire whose crackling he had heard earlier. A clearly insufficient amount of kindling, mostly foraged twigs and sticks from the yard had gotten the fire started, yet Nicky’s face frowned at the two medium logs, which had mostly been burned out. On top of them lay a bowl half-filled with water, which was no longer boiling. In the middle slices of lemon and eucalyptus floated idly, their mixed aroma acting as a balm for Nicky’s abused throat.

* * *

“We use the books to keep the fire going.” Andy explained, raising her hand when Nicky opened his mouth to protest. “Your heater is broken and it was of grave importance that you be kept warm.” Nile elaborated unapologetically. “The alternative, as Joe commented, was that for starters, you could burn my clothes.” Booker offered and Nicky huffed out a small laugh. “I see that Don Quixote has been spared.” Booker smiled faintly. “As have most of your books. Joe wouldn’t even allow me to touch them.” Nile nearly snorted at that, no doubt recalling something Nicky had not been conscious to witness.

* * *

“What happened?” It wasn’t really a question, it was more of a wavering, terrified whisper. “You have been… ill.” Andy eventually spoke, choosing the least harmful word she could think of. Nicky’s face fell. “You mean compromised.” He retorted, the words burning the curves of his mouth as his mind chose that moment to remind him of his actions in the lab. “No, Nicky, I mean ill.” Seeing the man’s disbelief, Nile spoke. “You have been burning up with fever, coughing to the point of spitting your lungs out and you have thrown your guts out more times than I can count in the last three days. In my book, that counts as being ill.” Nicky’s lips parted yet no words escaped them.

* * *

“Do not look at me Nicolas.” Booker uttered sadly, utilizing an older variation of the man’s name. “In my book this counts as having a really bad hangover.” That elicited a low yet nonetheless genuine chuckle from Nicky, who soon turned his gaze to his left hand, flinching at the sight of a needle, which was connected to an IV whose bag was placed over his head. “You couldn’t eat or drink anything despite Joe’s more than valiant attempts. We had to keep you hydrated until your body healed.” Nile explained patiently, casting her new friend an apologetic look as Andy took out the needle.

* * *

“I think I am ready to eat proper food now.” Nile’s sad look was washed over by one of sheer excitement and she hopped on her feet. “Booker, take Nile and go to make something we can all eat.” The former took the hint, nodding in agreement as he waved Nile toward the door lingering at the threshold no more than a second. Nicky did not miss the way guilt was eating him up from the inside out, but now was not the time for any kind of harsh words to be exchanged. Booker let his eyes fall closed as he finally moved to the kitchen.

* * *

“Andy, I’m so sorry. What I did—” The Scythian waved her head in refusal. “This wasn’t on you.” Nicky huffed in annoyance. “I turned against you. I raised my sword to strike you.” Ocean blue orbs tempered with green rolled upwards. “Well, you offered Nile a good show, I’ll give you that.” Nicky averted his gaze. “How’s Joe able to put up with you feeling guilty about things that were not of your making all the damn time?” At the sound of his partner’s name a shadow crossed Nicky’s features. “After what I did I wouldn’t be surprised if his patience was to run out.” Eyes laden with an unparalleled amount of guilt searched the room on their own accord despite already knowing that they would not be met with that all too familiar frame.

* * *

Joe’s absence was feeding Nicky’s deepest fears, creatures treacherous, which the man had spent years battling, armed with Joe’s unwavering devotion and his words of love and passion. Now, however, said demons had been unleashed the moment Nicky had raised his sword against Joe. Andy pressed her thumb and index fingers of her free hand on her furrowed eyebrows, yet Nicky’s tone was so sad it weakened her resolve. “I will abide to whatever penance you see fit.” The look on Andy’s face was one of incredulousness. “It is not you who will have to abide to whatever decision will be made.” She uttered, not bothering to hide her bitterness.

* * *

“Booker,” Nicky rolled the name in the curve of his mouth, working his tongue around it, “he did what he thought was right.” Andy’s eyes raked over Nicky’s frame. “It ended with you and Joe getting captured, tortured. It ended with a massacre.” Nicky’s eyes darkened. “So did the Crusades. I rode there thinking I was making the right choice.” The woman fell silent for a while. “You have had eons to make up for said choice. Now you have nothing to repent for.” The man seemed trapped inside his head.

* * *

“I delayed you for three days.” A weary exhale tore Andy’s lips. “Copley has taken care of everything. You needed time to get that shit out of your system.” The statement caused Nicky to lock his eyes with the ones of his commander. “I shouldn’t have needed time to heal.” Andy shrugged nonchalantly. “I shouldn’t be mortal.” She reached out to the man’s moist cheek, her hand freezing mid air as Nicky’s frame tensed. “Don’t touch me. If I hurt you…” His wavering voice faded. “In your condition, I doubt you could hurt a fly. Not that you could beat me anyway.” Nicky chuckled at that, knowing they were running in circles, avoiding a certain subject, although he was not sure what it was.

* * *

“What do you remember?” The man exhaled tiredly, squinting his eyes. “From the last three days? Bits and fragments of things that I can now see were not real.” Andy lowered her eyes knowingly. “I saw Quynh, Boss. I begged her to…” The man trailed off, shaking his head in search of the words which Andy spoke in his stead. “You begged her to take you with her.” Nicky nodded, his eyes clearing as they darted between the woman’s callused hands and sorrowful face. “It was you whom I was speaking to.” It was a statement, not a question. Across from him, Andy nodded. “I was burning and she was under the sea, cold as ice. I wished for the water to engulf me. When it did, I begged her again, only this time, salvation was not what I desired. But you already know that.” Nicky’s voice faded as Andy’s face morphed, plunged by anguish.

* * *

“I do now.” She muttered, exhaling a silent lament. A series of emotions passed over Nicky’s face in rapid succession as the gears of his mind began turning faster. Confusion, realization, sadness and last but not least guilt, all assaulted him violently. “Yusuf. It was Yusuf.” Andy didn’t even bother with a nod. “The fever was causing you to experience hallucinations and we had to do something otherwise you’d be toasted. You were healing slower than usual so we had to act. Ice-cold water was the easiest thing to find here. Joe,” her tone shifted as compassion filled her words, “he wouldn’t let us help with the task and I respected his will.” Nicky found himself inwardly torn into pieces, albeit he knew that this had not been the first time Andy had complied to such a request. There was no way Joe would ever allow anyone, not even her, close to his partner when he was so vulnerable.

* * *

Nicky recalled his muttered words, his pleas for death to finally claim him, shivering at the vogue memory of soft fingers on his skin. Of course, they belonged to Joe. The man closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to remain even. His mind would have begun to trail down perilous paths if it weren’t for Andy’s anchoring presence. “During the past three days,” She swallowed, bracing herself, “you died.” There was a peculiar pause after these two words, a strange finality woven in them. Nicky looked at the woman’s haunted face, opting to remain silent as she opened her mouth again.“Many a times.” She confessed, uncaring of the fear which was evident in her voice. After a long pause and an even longer exhale, the Scythian continued.

* * *

“Most of them, I thought you wouldn’t come back. Your body was,” She waved her hand mid air, trailing off, for there was no easy way of saying what had taken place, “It was rejecting medicine, food, even water. From what little Copley could tell us, we figured that the serum that blond bitch had given you had affected your organs. You were experiencing what Nile identified as withdrawal symptoms. That’s why your body took its sweet ass time to heal.” Andy paused anew, her humorless laugh fading before it could even reach her lips. For the first time in eons, her hands were twitching. Nicky tightened his hold around her callused fingers.

* * *

“This is not your fault.” Nicky assured a few moments later. “It’s not yours either.” She bid back at once, her tone sincere. “If you need me to take some time off from missions I will do so.” When she replied, Andy’s tone held no trace of lies in it. “I think we all need a break.” Nicky’s palm hovered over the spot where the bullet wound lingered, scarring Andy’s abdomen. “Nicky.” The man strengthened his back, aware that Andy had something more to ask of him. “What happened after Nile, Booker and I left to go confront Merrick?” At the sound of the name, Nicky’s frame shook. Silence leaped between them.

* * *

“Hasn’t Joe told you what happened?” He questioned quietly after a long while. “Joe hasn’t really talked much. Not to us, that is.” Nicky could tell Andy was selective of her words in an attempt to give the man time to regain his composure. “We heard you screaming and a few moments later, Joe howled.” Nicky huffed bitterly. So the scream whose orientation neither of the lovers could determine, belonged to him. The man closed his eyes against the phantom pain of a needle piercing his flesh, driven in ruthlessly by Keane’s relentless hand.

* * *

“I will tell you Boss, I promise. But first, I need to see him.” Nicky thanked the Heavens when Andy didn’t comment on how doubtful his tone was. Instead, she only nodded her consent, knowing she could hold him to his word. With one single wave of her hand, she lifted up the covers of the bed, before standing up to extend both hands toward Nicky. The Italian accepted her offer rather eagerly, obeying her when she insisted he should put on Joe’s greatcoat, which up to that moment, had been serving as his pillow. “Take it easy.” Andy cooed as she waited for Nicky to get used to the feeling of being on his feet again.

* * *

Together they crossed the room with slow, quiet steps and if Nicky leaned on Andy more than ever before none made a comment on it. Little by little and with patience Andy could muster only for the sake of her teammates, they reached the porch at the back of the house. There, Nicky paused yet it was not to rest but to take in the sight of the man he loved. Joe had his back on him, his frame clad in the same bloody clothes he had been wearing three days ago, only they seemed to be laden with a much greater quantity of the crimson liquid than the one he remembered. They were stained beyond measure and Nicky felt his insides turning. Long, relentless shivers were slithering down Joe’s broad back as the cold bit at his flesh. He looked famished, a shell of a man, a puppet left to be devoured by doubts, fear and guilt. Nicky blinked the tears back, detaching his body from Andy’s slender one, moving across the porch with steps quiet, but unsteady.

* * *

Joe’s greatcoat flung as Nicky walked, obeying the morning breeze. It had been a gift from Nicky himself, bought during one of their missions to search for Quynh. The Italian recalled the nearly blind tailor, a man well accustomed to England’s bitter cold. The heavy wool shielded the man’s shoulders, yet not his chest as no one had bothered with the buttons. Little did that matter however, for Nicky’s heart felt like a caged beast, pushing and purging until it could break free of its prison, until it could engulf Joe in its depths. Now it was Nicky’s turn to reach out to the man he loved, his turn to mend the internal wounds whose existence only he could see. He braced himself, for failure was not an option.

* * *

**_ End of chapter 4 _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it ends!  
> Thank you so much for reading!!  
> Comments and kudos make me so happy, so if you want, please let me know what you thought of the chapter! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
> I hope Andy was not really out of character. I am sorry if I did not depict her correctly, but the scene where she hugged Nicky conveyed that these two were fond of one another and that in time of need, Andy's stoic demeanor would give way to protectiveness for the sake of her friend.   
> We will see Joe and Nicky getting all fluffy next chapter!  
> Until neext time,  
> Be safe wherever you are,  
> Love ya all,  
> Usagi!!


	5. “For everything there is a reason, and a time for every matter under Heaven; A time to be born and a time to die, a time to kill and a time to heal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 5, the last one! Thank you all for reading and leaving cpmments and kudos, they really make me so happy and they fuel my passion for writing! I hope you will enjoy it!  
> Stay safe wherever you are!!

**_ Chapter 5: “For everything there is a reason, and a time for every matter under Heaven; A time to be born and a time to die, a time to kill and a time to heal.” _ **

* * *

Nicky paused, coming to an abrupt halt as wavering whispers uttered without a break for an inhale reached his ears. At their eerie echo, Nicky clenched his fists only to command them to relax again a moment later. Joe was lost to the world, doing the only thing that was left to be done. He was praying, his eyes looking past the darkness of the ether, past the edge of despair. His tears were deriving from the depths of his soul, pellucid rivulets shimmering in the light of dawn. So old was the dialect he was utilizing that Nicky couldn’t be certain of the words’ meaning. Yet, so beseeching was his tone that it left little room for doubt to dwell.

* * *

‘Joe hasn’t talked much. Not to us, that is.’ Andy’s remark now made sense and Nicky worked his mouth to open as if he had never attempted to do so before. Joe’s barely audible sobs wrapped themselves around Nicky’s vocal cords, breaking the strings, deeming every word the man wished to speak hollow and insufficient to convey neither his feelings of regret, nor those of unparalleled love. His mind recited passages old, finding them suitable for the task at hand, knowing they could offer Joe the solace he so desperately was seeking. He cleared his throat, making his presence known.

* * *

_“For everything there is a reason, and a time for every matter under Heaven; A time to be born and a time to die, a time to kill and a time to heal; A time to break down and a time to build up again.”_  
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-3)

Joe’s frame became eerily still, his breath misting the air as it severed itself from his dry lips. Alas, he did not dare turn around. “As it would seem, my time to die has not come as of yet.” The silence was deafening, so heavy that it tore the sky in half and it bled over Nicky’s head. Joe’s hands twitched as he wielded his body to obey him. “Once, a long time ago, I swore that should I ever greet death with your scimitar in my hand it would be so as to save you.” Joe’s feet retreated as he let his eyes fall closed, refusing to gaze at the figure before him. “I swore to never leave you behind.” For yet another time the two men found themselves orbiting around one another, as Nicky extended his hands, taking a hold of Joe’s ice-cold ones, flinching at the sensation of water on them.

* * *

Joe simply followed Nicky’s lead, eyes still shut, taking a step forward whenever his partner would do the same. Together they walked upon the thin, yet solid thread which Nicky’s soft whispers had created, allowing it to knit what Kozak’s hands had torn to shreds. Two bodies sharing one soul. They paused when Nicky’s exhales were so close to Joe’s nostrils that the man could inhale them if he wished to. Oh, and he did take them in with the fervor of a drowning man, shaking under their weight.

* * *

“I can rest now, for my vow has been fulfilled.” Nicky offered meekly, stilling as trembling hands were hooked on each side of his face in less than a heartbeat. Warm dark brown orbs danced under closed eyelids as Joe waved his head, his callused fingers gripping the tender flesh almost brutally. Time lost meaning as Joe attempted to anchor himself back to Nicky. “Open your eyes, Yusuf.” A low whine echoed as Nicky placed his own palms over the ones of his lover, whilst also bringing their foreheads together. Still, fear clank onto Joe’s entire being.

* * *

“I’m here. I could never leave you behind, I am right here.” Nicky offered again. “Listen to my voice.” he pleaded as he moved their entwined hands from the sides of his face to his chest, laying Joe’s palm flat over his heart. “Touch me, my love.” He moved his lips against Joe’s moist nose, tasting salt on the corners of his mouth, “Taste me,” he shivered at the sensation, so old yet somehow always new, “Inhale my scent,” he continued, tilting his head upwards so that Joe could hide his tear-marked face in the crook of his neck. A low, painful lament fell from barely parted lips, yet the coming dawn missed it, as it was lost amidst Nicky’s encouraging whispers.

* * *

  
“As much as I like it when you are asleep, I need you to wake up. Wake up from that world in which you are all alone, Yusuf. Come back to me. Come back to me as I have come back to you. Yusuf, look at me.” When Joe did as he was asked, the world stilled and all else faded. Eyes clad in black circles, drowned in pain and despair met stormy grey ones, and Joe did not blink the tears away. Nicky felt his heart shuttering seeing that his lover was under the impression that the Italian would dissolve into specks of dust should he avert his gaze. Nicky brushed his lips against Joe’s forehead.

* * *

As small droplets of sweat slipped past Nicky’s lips, which were burning in comparison to the ice-cold flesh, the Italian let his eyes fall closed, barring the way to the treacherous tears, which were looming near their corners. And there, behind his long, well shaped eyelashes, Nicky saw Joe dying a hundred deaths during these three days. “Nicolo…” Dread gave way to awareness as Joe’s senses slowly but surely began to spring back to life. “Nicolo…” Over their head, a new dawn finally reigned over the land of Men and Joe’s fears flew away into the burning sunrise, like birds traveling against the wind. It was a signature, a testimony of sorts. One proving that, life wins the toughest fights, breaking through the darkest of nights, only to ride across the endless skies by the first light of the new day.

* * *

“Sono qui Yusuf, sono qui.” (I am here, Yusuf, I’m here.) Nicky uttered time and time again, whilst Joe could only cling on to him and inhale short, ragged breaths. None of the two made a comment about the silent, yet ever present sobs which were still tormenting Joe, their hold unrelenting to Nicky’s calming words. Well trained hands trailed down Nicky’s body and Nicky found himself giving every ounce of control up to Joe. The man checked him albeit he knew he would find no marks lingering on the fair skin.

* * *

After what seemed like eons but was not more than a quarter of an hour, Joe pulled his lover’s face a few inches away from his own so as to look at him. Nicky mimicked the notion, his lips twitching upwards when Joe raised an eyebrow. “What?” He probed, and happiness had never been more evident in his voice.

* * *

  
“You look terrible. Your hair is a mess.” Joe offered Nicky a genuine smile, which knitted his torn insides back together. They hugged then, surrounded by the echo of Joe’s wonderful laughter in whose cadence Nicky could hear the man saying ‘I love you’ in every language he knew. Their hands trailed down each other’s bodies before Joe wounded his own around Nicky’s waist, lifting him off the ground, spinning him around slowly, feeling the axis of his world falling back into place. If Nicky did not trust his hands to do the same, Joe was too overjoyed to notice.

* * *

Andy, Nile and Booker were all nestling close by, rejoicing along with them, some laughing softly, others blinking back the tears silently. All five of them under the sky, a few minutes after the break of dawn. It would be the last time they would be all gathered in such close proximity, that much Booker was aware of. How much time would go by until their next meeting was up to Nicky and Joe to decide. Whatever their decision would be, Booker would abide.

* * *

**_ Five Days later… _ **

“Ask me.” Was all Joe said as he shut the door of their room, making sure to wave Andy and Nile good night before the click of the lock echoed. Nicky exhaled, weighing his next words. “How come you relented, settling for one hundred years? You did it for me?” The man in question leaned with his back against the door, his eyes on the ceiling. Nicky waited, absently tracing Andy’s steps as she guided Nile to the guestroom, which the Italian had been occupying until a handful of days ago. Joe’s uneven breaths caused Nicky to turn his gaze back on his lover. His hands shook, vibrating with the almost overwhelming need to touch, to comfort. Alas, he restrained his desire, for he was dwelling in doubt.

* * *

“I didn’t do it for you. I did it because of you.” Nicky’s brows arched upwards and his partner continued, voice almost cold. “Because you died, Nicolo.” Joe’s tone was harsh, carrying with it the same finality which had laden Andy’s words. Nicky attempted to offer reassurance, but never got the chance. “After you killed Keane,” well shaped lips pulled themselves backwards as Joe snarled the name, “I held you, waiting for your wounds to heal.” Across from him, Nicky breathed out, swallowing his own guilt. “Only they didn’t. You kept bleeding, your eyes fixed on me yet utterly unseeing.” A low thud followed the declaration as Joe hit his head against the frame.

* * *

“I spoke to you, pleaded, begged you in every language known to Men.” Joe cut himself off with a sharp inhale. “I knew we had to leave, the police was near the perimeter. I could hear Andy ordering us to move our asses,” Nicky flinched at the rising volume of the man’s voice, “saying ‘Joe, Nicky come on!’ over and over again. That’s what she always says, isn’t it? Both our names, without a pause in between.” Nicky took a moment to dwell on the fact before Joe spoke anew. “Because she knows there’s no me if there’s no you.” Distant clatter crept amongst them as Nile moved in the kitchen. “But you were gone, Nicolo. Dead, for minutes on-end.” This time Nicky couldn’t stop the apology escaping his lips. Regretfully, it fell on deaf ears.

* * *

“I carried you down the stairs and out of that God-forsaken building, feeling your blood staining my shirt. You don’t remember it but,” Joe’s voice cracked as the man huffed out a mocking laugh which sounded like a broken sob, “I made sure to tell you, among other things, that you owed me a new set of clothes.” Ragged breaths trailed after that vacant declaration and Joe had a hard time focusing on the present. Nicky would dare say he was coping somewhat better, yet the memory of the disturbingly large amount of blood on the man’s shirt came back to haunt him. “Yusuf, my heart, I am so—” Eyes burning with need whilst simultaneously drowning in terrifying memories pierced the man’s frame, reducing him into nothing more than a helpless spectator. “By the time we had reached the car your wounds had started to heal, so Andy didn’t ask for any further explanation about the reason why I had been carrying you all the way there.” Joe paused and Nicky realized he had done the same after reporting back to Andy.

* * *

“I thought you would soon be fine, that the nightmare was all over. But it had only just begun.” Silence fell heavily on them after that and for a long while the only indications of life in the small safe house were Andy’s instructions on how to prepare lasagna, which, judging by the noises coming from the kitchen, was a dish Nile had never prepared before. “When we brought you here you were already burning up. You would get nosebleeds and seizures so violent it took both me as well as Andy to keep you from hurting yourself.” Nicky’s eyes widened and this time he cut Joe off harshly.

* * *

“Did I do anything to you? Did I hurt you?” Joe gazed at him, waving his head in refusal. “I wished for it. I wished for your hands to break mine in their search for leverage. I longed to share your pain, your anguish, I craved for a sign that would reveal you were still fighting to come back to me.” Nicky brought his furled fingers before his lips. “After the seizures, you began throwing up, or at least you tried to.” There was a ghost of a smile on the man’s lips. “Andy told me I died many times.” Stormy orbs darted around the room, not bearing to look at Joe. “Twelve.” The tone was one of sheer fret and the number caused Nicky’s stomach to turn at the thought of his partner witnessing such a cruel sight.

* * *

“The last one was while we were in the bathroom.” Nicky’s face morphed. “I had locked the door, keeping everyone out. I thought I could keep death out as well.” The man fixed his gaze with the one of his lover, needing to make sure he was there. “I was mistaken.” Joe confessed in a wavering tone. “The water was cold, a double edged dagger. Even though it helped break your fever, it also affected your heart. You begged me to stop tormenting you. You begged for death. In Arabic.” There was nothing capable of soothing Joe’s raw pain, but Nicky tried nonetheless.

* * *

“I felt you there. Amidst the freezing water, I sensed warm hands cradling my face, my neck, my back. They tethered me to this world.” Joe looked at his shaky palms. “Twelve times you died in my arms, the minutes which your body needed to come back stealing eons from my own lifespan. I could do nothing to help you. I hated Booker, Nicolo. Every time you would ramble incoherent moans and pleas, I would curse him. That’s why I left the room. If I hadn’t, Booker’s safety wouldn’t have been guaranteed.” Joe paused, breathing hard. “Forgive me, for not being there when you awoke. But the thought of you never breathing again, the thought that your last words would have been for me to bury you,” Joe felt burning tears streaming down his cheeks as his voice flared, “the thought that I would have to exist in a world without you, it was driving me insane.” The man placed his hand against his heaving chest as though he wished to push back his plaint, his rage.

* * *

Nicky strode forward hovering over Joe’s shaking frame. They locked eyes with one another as words laden with bitterness echoed in the room. “So now you know why I relented. Because even though Booker was wrong in assuming we had never felt lonely, his wish to die would have been mine as well, should you be taken from my arms.” All traces of anger evanesced as Joe lay his soul bare for his lover to see. And the man witnessed it all. The grief which was still clad in anger’s form for Booker’s betrayal, the fear of losing Nicky, the uncertainty regarding Andy’s future, the wish to shield Nile from the burden of killing during missions for as long as it was possible. Nicky didn’t flinch, didn’t avert his gaze.

* * *

“I am in your arms and I promise to never leave them for as long as I draw breath.” Silence coated everything and Nicky felt unspoken words hanging over his head like a scythe. Joe shut his eyes, pulling his deepest thoughts back in the labyrinths of his mind and Nicky gasped, realizing the moment had been shattered. “We should get some sleep.” Was all Joe muttered, causing Nicky to step back, face morphing as though he had been slapped. He numbly nodded his consent, extending his hand to grab the book which lingered on the bedside table. Upon noticing Joe’s incredulous look, Nicky paused, lowering his eyes.

* * *

“If I fall asleep no one else will be able to do the same. The past three nights have proven as much.” Fine eyebrows knitted together at the sound of these words. It was no false claim that Nicky had been plunged by hellish nightmares whenever he would close his eyes, yet none of his teammates had complained for the disturbance. Joe had done his best to guard his lover from an enemy he, himself could not see, but his words would not suffice to lull Nicky back to the present. “I’ll take the first watch. You deserve a good rest, my heart.” Nicky’s voice wavered at the term of endearment. “What I deserve,” Joe uttered, highlighting the last word, “is the man I love to roost in my embrace.” The phrase was laden with so much plaint that Nicky’s frame shook to its core.

* * *

“Are you afraid of me?” Joe cringed at the absurdity of his own request. He had uttered the words before, but he thought life would not be so cruel as to oblige him to speak them again. He was mistaken. He succumbed to the need to ask, recalling Nicky’s violent thrusts on their bed the night before as he struggled to escape the clutches of his own mind. Stormy eyes the color of the clouded sky had gazed at Joe and for a split second, they were lost in darkness, freed of the weight of guilt. The moment was fleeing however, and once Nicky had regained his composure, it had all come crashing down on him. “Is that why you pulled yourself away from me after you were finally awaken, refusing to come back to bed?” The man in question seemed to realize his mistake and shook his head in earnest.

* * *

“No, Joe, no,” Nicky fought against the building panic, “never, Yusuf.” The weight of the name settled on tensed shoulders and both men allowed a bit of the edginess to bleed out. “I am not afraid of you, how could I ever be? I am afraid of myself.” Joe exhaled bitterly, yet he did not interrupt. “Every time I close my eyes,” the words were harsh, unrelenting, “I see you die by my hand. I stab you, I impale you with my sword, I shoot you with a gun, or even worse, I kill you with my own hands, obeying Kozak’s demands. I cannot stand it Yusuf, not being in your arms. But I don’t trust myself enough.” The call boomed through the air as Nicky had now raised his voice, attempting to break free of the ghost of the woman clad in white. He backtracked away from Joe upon realizing that his absence had been hurting him more than his presence ever could.

* * *

Strong, calculating hands fidgeted, causing Nicky to tighten his hold around his book to stop their trembling. Joe simply stared at those marvelous stormy eyes, knowing that all the words Nicky could not utter were dwelling in those orbs. He remained silent only for a moment, and Nicky could almost see the gears of his mind turning. When they stopped, dark brown eyes shone with a mixture of love, pride and determination. Nicky opened his mouth to speak, but it was futile. “Go, sit.” Joe nearly commanded, yet his voice was overwhelmed with affection. He pointed at the narrow loveseat which they had purchased a few years back and was nestled in between the small heater and the window. There was no room for an argument, so Nicky merely resigned.

* * *

“Close your eyes.” Joe instructed as he opened the drawer, pulling out what Nicky knew was his sketchbook. Soon, a familiar, warm body was pressed next to his and Nicky did unconsciously slide between Joe’s now parted legs, his back against the man’s chest. “Keep your eyes closed, my heart.” Nicky tensed at the memory of his hands pressing the scimitar further so as Joe would be scathed by the blade, yet calming words flooded his ears, chasing Kozak’s voice away. There was a soft pressure as the sketchbook found its place upon Nicky’s lap and an even softer exhale emerging from the man when Joe’s hands wove themselves around his sides, warm palms enclosing pale, sweaty ones.

* * *

“Joe,” The name was uttered with reverence, “I don’t understand.” A low chuckle bubbled up Joe’s chest as Nicky felt a slender pencil seeking its way in between his thumb, index and middle finger. “Are you expecting me to draw?” Curious, Nicky tilted his head to the side, attempting to look at Joe, who shushed him once more. “Be calm, Nicolo. Keep your eyes closed, and your hand in mine. I ask for nothing more.” The Italian complied, albeit hesitantly, allowing his hand to be guided by Joe’s experienced one. “You say you don’t trust yourself enough. Can you trust me enough for the both of us?” Nicky felt Joe leading his hand to the side and then downward. The soft pad of the pencil against the paper accompanied the movement. He nodded, releasing a sound akin to a delightful moan when long fingers began to caress his hair.

* * *

“Joe, Yusuf, I can’t stay here.” Joe hummed deep in his throat, maneuvering Nicky’s right hand in circular motions so as to color the blank page. “I am right here, just me, no one else.” The man felt the last traces of resistance plunging Nicky’s body. “I will not allow you to spend another night furled in half on the far corner of the room.” A pained exhale was all the answer Joe got as Nicky understood neither of them could bear being so close, yet so far from one another. “I cannot cast her out. She’s always in between us. She’s in my head Yusuf, muttering garbled words.” Joe paused, pondering. Then, he begun to hum, low and even, a tune of times old, but not forgotten.

_“Doha ya doha,  
wal ka’aba banoha,  
seedi safar mecca  
jabli zambeel ka’aka wal ka’aka,  
fil mokhzan wal mokhzan,  
malu mofatah wal moftah, ind al najjar wal najjar,  
yebgha al floos wal floos,  
ind al malek wal malek,  
yebgha al manadeel wal manadeel,  
ind al soghar wal soghar,  
yebghu al haleeb wal haleeb,  
ind al bagara wal bagra  
tebgha al hasheesh  
wal hasheesh fog al  
jabal wal jabal yebgha al matara  
ya rabbi houtt al matara  
ya matara hutti hutti ala gara’at  
bent ukhti  
bent ukhti jabat  
walad samatu abdulsamad.”_

* * *

Nicky breathed in time with Joe, losing himself in his lover’s voice, feeling the muscles of his hand relaxing around the pencil. Golden specks of sand caressed his nearly numb fingers and Joe’s voice was laden with the warmth of sunrays, which had greeted the sky almost a millennia ago. It washed away Kozak’s ice cold touch. He relished the sensation, content. Nicky leaned close, clasping Joe’s hands blindly. He sighed in the crook of the man’s neck. The spot was so warm, so beautiful, a safe heaven. Until it was not, because blood flooded the curve of Joe’s mouth, stealing the white color of his teeth, drowning the verses of the song.

* * *

Nicky pulled back alarmed, looking down at his hands, at his fingers, which had grasped the pencil. Or was it the pommel of his sword? No, it was the pencil and it was now protruding from Joe’s fine neck. Nicky pulled it back harshly, flinching as blood whipped his face, only to drive it in the beaten flesh time and time again. His lips were now crimson, as was his hair, but not that white long-shirt, whose edge Nicky caught with the corner of his eye. Why couldn’t it be tarnished as well? Nicky growled, yet despite his valiant attempts, he could neither call for help nor restrain himself. Blood was flowing freely, causing the loveseat to squeak under Nicky’s struggling body. His insides turned and he bolted upright, his shivering frame coming to a hold as strong hands restrained it.

* * *

“Yusuf!” The window rattled at the desperate call, which echoed throughout the small safe house. Nile’s glass slipped from her fingers, shattering onto the kitchen floor yet the sound never reached her ears. Before she could blink twice, Andy was gone from her side, her double edged axe held tightly in her grasp. In five long strides, the Scythian was situated next to the locked door, guarding it from an intangible enemy. Nile followed suit, eyeing Andy with sorrowful eyes as curt sobs crept under the wooden frame and into the hallway.

* * *

“Shouldn’t we get in?” Nile suggested rather frantically. From the other side of the door echoed hushed whispers, uttered in what the girl thought was Arabic. Andy exhaled a broken lament as she lowered her axe, nodding for Nile to return to the kitchen. “This is a foe only Joe can counter.” She turned to leave only to pause a moment later, casting one last glance at the door. “You had better bring him back Joe. You had better bring him back.” The words were scarcely audible yet the man who was meant to be their recipient had heard them nonetheless.

* * *

In the dimly illuminated bedroom, Nicky withered, chest heaving. “Get away from me!” To his utter dismay, Joe refused to relent. “It was but a dream amore mio. You didn’t harm me, you couldn’t have.” Nicky struggled against him, the tears burning him. “No. Not tonight. This night you will not run from me Nicolo.” He pressed his chest onto Nicky’s back, kissing his neck, his shoulder blades, his hair, until the man exhausted himself. “I’ve got you, my sun and stars, I am right here.” Joe muttered, sorrow woven in his tone. “Are you?” The question faded, lost in doubt. “I am and I will always be. Let me prove it to you.” Joe nearly begged eyeing tear filled orbs. Eventually, Nicky nodded, too wrenched to detach himself from his lover’s embrace.

* * *

Joe shushed him before reaching for his sketchbook once more. “Let us try again, my heart. Keep your hand in mine and your eyes closed.” Nicky shivered, muscles tensing anew. Warm exhales found the shell of his ear as Joe’s fingers navigated his own. Little by little, the fear bled out of him, mixing with the lines on the page. “Can you guess what we are sketching?” With a small shake of his head, Nicky let his face nuzzle in the crook of Joe’s neck. “I am not sketching. It would be an insult to say such a thing.” For the first time after Merrick’s lab, a genuine laughter escaped Joe’s lips. His free hand got lost in between soft locks of hair once again.

* * *

For quite some time no other words were spoken, and Nicky finally relaxed against that all too familiar body, content with the movement of his hand. It was a peculiar sensation. Nicky’s slender fingers were accustomed to holding the pommel of his blade, or the handle of a gun, or the back of a book. The times he had held a pencil for this long were a single digit number. He felt an old flame rising upwards from in between ever burning embers as Joe’s warm palm shielded the back of his hand. Something complementary had happened eons ago. Back then, Joe was simply Yusuf, so different from Nicolo, yet so similar at the same time. Yes, Nicky could now recall the way Yusuf had guided his pale, shaky hands on the plains of his chest, teaching the former priest to trust himself as he endeavored to cross the ocean of desire.

* * *

“Yusuf,” Nicky hummed half asleep, obliging his eyes to open so as to prevent himself from sinking deeper into unconsciousness, “what are we doing?” Joe looked down at their joined hands, whilst he continued to caress his lover’s hair lulling him back to sleep. “Oh, but we are sketching, my love. In fact,” Joe’s tone was quiet yet honest, “you are sketching. I am simply observing.” Nicky’s heart swelled with love. “I nearly fell asleep. You’re giving me too much credit.” He muttered softly, rising to meet Joe’s eyes when the man requested him to do so. “I am giving you far too little credit, my heart. Perhaps in your dreams you moved to strike me but reality could not have been further from the truth. You nearly fell asleep whilst in possession of one of the deadliest weapons Men have ever forged and you have not turned against me.” Nicky’s body stilled, eyes widening.

* * *

“A pencil—” Moist lips paused mere inches before Nicky’s parted ones, for Joe refused to startle him. Only when Nicky nodded did the kiss occur. All objections diminished. Nicky shivered against Joe’s body, pressing his entire frame back on it, as if wishing to become one with the man. “A pencil is an artist’s sword.” Was all the answer Nicky got when they drew away as to breathe. “Plus, you seem to forget I once killed Booker with a pencil.” At the echo of the name, Joe’s mouth twitched. The movement did not go unnoticed. “I have not forgotten. In my dream, I did the same.” Joe weighted his next words. “You would have never attacked me in reality, in contradiction to Booker.” A soft hum accompanied those words. “He was drunk, my heart.” Nicky offered meekly. The other man merely shrugged. “That was his problem.” Joe’s mind recalled the memory, yet it soon focused back on Nicky.

* * *

“This,” Joe said lovingly, bringing their entwined hands closer, uncaring of the pencil, which was biting at his palm, “is my heart’s weapon, Nicolo. My hands have been grasping it for far longer than they have the scimitar.” Nicky was once again transfixed by his partner’s words. “With this, I can bring all the things which are nestling in my mind to life. I can sketch you for countless hours without surrendering to fatigue.” When Joe paused, he raised their hands, allowing the pencil to hover over Nicky’s chest. “With this I can recreate places of the past, mend the present, or get a glimpse of the future.” Next to him, stormy blue-grey eyes filled to the brim with tears. “I trust this pencil as I trust my blade and I know that your hands can wield them both if it means you will defend me.” Hot, salty teardrops damped Joe’s neck as Nicky’s inner walls were crumbling down.

* * *

“I know that you will never turn against me, Nicolo. Therefore, I will make sure to let you know how much I trust you every day, until you learn to trust yourself again. When you do, I will go back to letting you know how much I love you.” How could he make it all sound so simple, so effortless, Nicky could not even begin to fathom. He was left dumbstruck, gazing at his ridiculously romantic yet ever so beloved partner and he realized there was but one thing he could do. Thus, Nicky allowed the words to engulf him, burrowing in the man’s unwavering belief that he was worthy of his trust. His faith in the fact was enough for the both of them.

* * *

They remained frozen on the spot for a long while, during which Nicky worked his mouth to open as Joe’s words echoed in his mind. When he eventually spoke, two sole words trailed from his lips. “Forgive me.” Joe used his free hand to cup his lover’s cheek, obliging him to maintain eye contact. “There is nothing for me to forgive, Nicolo.” A low lament followed the declaration. “I haven’t been here, not really.” His voice faded only for Joe’s husky one to fill the silence. “But you are here now.” It was a reassurance for the both of them, accompanied by a stern nod from Nicky. Time lost meaning after that, as Joe’s soft whispers and even softer caresses offered solace to the man’s tormented mind.

* * *

“I don’t deserve you,” Thick and slurred were the words as Nicky’s breathing began to even out. His head lolled to the side and Joe hummed happily at the tingling sensation of hot exhales at the side of his neck. He wound his hands around his partner’s middle, settling on the loveseat. “Let me decide that, my heart.” Came the hushed whisper. Joe remained vigilant for a long while, content with watching Nicky sleep peacefully for the first time ever since their abduction. “Sleep, my sun and stars.” Joe uttered, his words getting lost in between Nicky’s soft hair. It wasn’t the most comfortable of places for them to lay, yet Joe paid no mind to the fact. He had Nicky in his arms and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Joe simply allowed himself to breathe his lover’s scent, eyes feeling heavy. Utilizing the last traces of consciousness, he took a hold of his sketchbook, smiling in the dark as he gazed at the page. The moon crept inside the room from the window, adding an almost ethereal glow on to the inky drawing, gifting it with just an ounce of its beauty, and a sliver of its immortality. Joe’s eyes shone.  
  
**_There, lay a sword and a scimitar, their edges sharp, their pommels touching_**.

* * *

_**THE END** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, at the end of the road! This was a great ride for me and a bridge to get me back in to the world of writing! I hope that you have enjoyed the tale as much I have enjoyed creating it!  
> Here are a few facts I would like to point out to you:  
> 1\. You may not notice, but every chapter bears the title of something Nicky says. I attempted for the story to come full circle.  
> \- The title of the first chapter is a proverb, as Nicky shows the vastness of his heart and advises his companions to act with kindness as their compass.  
> -The second chapter reveals Nicky’s deepest fear, which he utters whilst being tortured. He wishes he is still human enough so as to cherish all he has lived and also fear death at his truly final moments. In other words, he wishes he is not utterly alienated by the passing of time, by the blood which has stained his hands.  
> -The third chapter is his absolution, as he willingly gives his life for what could have been the last time, in order to save Yusuf. He realizes his soul is still unscathed and he uses his final breaths to speak his heart. He begs Yusuf to bury him, meaning he cannot live in a world without him.  
> -The fourth chapter is his plea for forgiveness, which he asks from Andy and himself. The words ‘I will abide to whatever penance you see fit’, are spoken by him while he is plunged by guilt. In truth it should have been Booker seeking forgiveness and in a way, he is.  
> -The fifth and final chapter is once again a quote from the old testament, as Nicky comes back to himself, albeit half the way, if only to comfort Joe, who is lost in despair. Little by little, they find their way back to one another. Nothing will ever be exactly the same, but these two, different bodies sharing one soul, they will manage to move forward. 
> 
> 2\. I have read quite many books, but I am no writer myself. I am aware that the story has issues with pacing and that there are a few (to say the least) repeats of scenes which a more experienced, or a professional writer could avoid. I will try to be better, for the readers and for my own sake.
> 
> 3\. The song Yusuf hums to Nicky is one I learned from a friend of mine, yet the translation is one I found online. Here it is, if anyone is interested:
> 
> “Doha ya Doha  
> And the ka’aba they built it  
> and with zamzam they sprayed it,  
> daddy/father went to mecca,  
> he got me some cake,  
> and the cake is in the closet  
> and the closet needs a key  
> and the key is with the carpenter  
> and the carpenter wants money  
> and the money is with the bride  
> and the bride wants a baby boy  
> and the baby boy wants milk  
> and the milk is with the cow  
> and the cow wants the grass  
> and the grass in on top of the mountain  
> and the mountain wants rain  
> come rain come on my sister’s daughter’s village  
> my sister’s daughter brought a baby boy  
> and she called him ‘ Abd-Alsamad  
> Doha ya Doha  
> And the ka’aba,  
> they built it.”
> 
> 4\. This was my very first work in this fandom. I hope I did most characters justice. I have not read the comic, I simply cast a glance on it. So, the entire plot comes from the movie. If you liked it, I have written yet another story with these two! I do not have twitter, or tumbler as they do more harm than good to me. I do not own The Old Guard, and no money is made by this story. I wish to endeavor deeper in the relationship Joe and Nicky have, and I hope you will sail along with me, on this ship of immortal husbands! 
> 
> Thank you all, for reading!  
> Until next time,  
> Stay safe wherever you are,  
> Love you all,  
> Usagi!


End file.
